Snow and gravel crunch under my boots as I chug along the Stroudwater Trail. The winding Stroudwater River, my companion on my right, is mostly frozen over now. The sky is that washed out winter gray and there's a breeze in the treetops. The temperature is mild, though, in the high 30s maybe.
It's a good day for a walk (but then, what day isn't?).

I live not too far from here, so I try to get out here often, for a bit of exercise, to breath some fresh air, some time to clear the head. A brief (and handy) escape into the woods for comtemplation.

Starting out, I usually walk at a quick pace, things pressing on my mind, heart rate up. But it doesn't take long before the pace slows amid this little patch of Mother Nature. And after a mile or two, an hour or so among the trees, I've usually calmed down considerably and solved whatever problem or issue may have been bothering me, gotten life somewhat back in order.

Today the hemlocks, firs and pines; the oaks, birches and beech trees are all here, just where I left them last time. I smile as I pass; it's nice to see familiar friends. Beavers have been busy selectively harvesting saplings along the river's edge. No signs of a lodge or dam though. Small critters have left a series of tracks back and forth on the river. Their prints have melted some, so I can't identify who's been where.

Holiday traffic is heavy and loud when I reach the Maine Turnpike overpass behind UNUM, but no matter. I stand and stare at the passing dark windshields for a moment, then turn and retrace my steps. I've still got half the walk remaining, and I revel in the thought. Hurrying isn't even an option.

It's dusk when I reach the car. On Outer Congress St. passing cars have their lights on. It starts to drizzle as I pull out into traffic and head for home. But I am refreshed by this brief respite in the woods, ready for the next round.

A winter walk along the Stroudwater Trail in Portland.